Relic of a Forgotten Era
by Konstantinsen
Summary: Chance encounters, plausible scenarios, and isolated engagements between certain individuals and the person who had once been revered long, long ago as the Last Dragonborn. [a series of one-shots] (Ch. 3 - Gildarts)
1. Erza

**NOTE: I wrote this on a whim shortly after discovering _Fairy Tail_ back in October. I haven't touched this in a while and I'll just throw this up here. I might edit this later or something. I was putting this on hold because I was waiting for feedback from _SeleneArchelle_ but screw it. She'll see this sooner or later.**

 **I will be twisting the personas here to see how it would play out. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Erza Scarlet woke up with a splitting migraine and several aching joints. Everything was a blur. The last thing she remembered was taking on a job investigating something...anomalous in... _where exactly was that again?_ It was only when she tried to move her arms that she realized she wasn't in the guild hall anymore.

Rather, she was...somewhere. She sat up halfway only to feel a sudden burst of pain rip into her side. Erza grimaced as she struggled to adjust herself on this makeshift bed of cow hide and hay. A handheld lamp lit up the cellar she was in. Large wine barrels lined the wall all the way up to a wide staircase.

"Natsu! Lucy!" she yelled. "Gray! Happy!"

Nothing. _Weren't we going on a job together? I...I don't recall._ Erza raised her hands, feeling the weight of the chains on her cuffed wrists. She tried to draw on her reserves only to end up feeling dry. Very dry.

"That's not right," she muttered. She was an S-class mage with immense magical reserves. How on earth was she not able to muster up so much as a spark? "What's...what's happened..."

It was most likely the wound. She felt around until her fingers found the serrated gash in her cuirass. Dried blood caked her side. Sure enough, she found the wound: a wide cut below her ribs going down to the top of her hip. Strangely, they were crudely stitched up. _By who?_

"No, no," she muttered. "There's no time to waste." _I need to get out of here. Find out what happened, what's going on._

Erza staggered to her feet, cringing at the burning agony of her injury. Slowly but surely, she made her way to the end of the cellar, up the staircase, and into...

"Oh no..."

The whole village was razed. The sky had been completely reddened by the embers rising from the surrounding rubble. The inn she had emerged out of had been reduced to nothing but stone blocks and charcoal beams. Ash blew in the wind alongside bits and pieces of burnt posts from the few half-standing homes. The smell of burnt remains was... _nostalgic._

Erza tripped over a table. _No, it's a body!_ The poor man was charred beyond recognition but his arms had been clawing at the floorboards, _trying to get to the cellar._ She tumbled further towards the street, seeing more of the dead. Men, women, children, elderly...

"No one...was no one spared...?"

Step by step, she maundered down the road, passing rubble after rubble, corpse after corpse, buried under falling ash. Every blackened face brought back pieces of a suppressed past. She shook her head as she bounced from wall to wall, post to post. _Just keep going, Erza. Just keep going. Look forward. Don't look down._

She couldn't help herself. The more she saw of the bodies, the more she noticed a pattern. The positions they died in...all of them were running away from something. The road led up to a hill where most of the victims had funneled through to escape. Erza could feel the stinging in her side grow more and more unbearable and she stopped just short of the top to catch her breath.

 _Natsu, Grey, Lucy...where are you?_

She a lance speared into the ground; a dead soldier's hand still held its vice grip on the shaft. Erza gripped the pole and with both her chained arms hefted herself to stand so she could see...

...a massive dragon devouring cadavers heaped beside a dry cracked fountain.

Erza let loose a loud gasp and landed on her rear. The dragon heard her and angled its body towards her, its heavy footfalls resonating against the cobblestone on the plaza. As it shifted, the figure of a man came into view, busying himself with a book as he stood next to the dead. A sword was strapped firmly to the left of his waist while a mace hung slightly from his right. The rest of him was covered in some type of jagged armor. Nothing she had ever seen before.

Then they spoke. Not to her. But to each other. And in a language that she did not understand.

* * *

"She has woken early," Odahviing remarked.

"I'm impressed. Even after all the trouble she put me through, she can still stand," Ysmir replied, tucking away his journal.

"She tested your strength, Dovahkiin. She is for certain a skilled and powerful warrior."

"Aye but I'm still standing. And she's still holding onto her chains, I see."

The ancient dragon stretched his wings against the sky, his claws bared and ready to fly off at a moment's notice. "Shall we entertain her?"

"Maybe get some damned answers," his liege answered as he began his march up the ash-covered hill.

* * *

The man was coming up the hill as the rest of the village— _no, it's a small town—_ continued to burn unabated around them. Erza tried to stand again but only ended up sitting down on the stones. She was very, very drained.

Not a single word of what was spoken made sense to her. Her body was in pain and her mind was addled by the destruction around her that she could barely meet this stranger face to face. By then, he was towering over her. He yanked the lance to the side, snagging her arms with it and causing her to roll down the slope towards the base of the fountain.

Erza's body collided with the bricks that had been knocked free off the fountain's basin. The stench of rotting human flesh was slightly masked by the ashy scent of burnt skin and bones. All the while she tried to push away images that suddenly started popping up in her mind.

"Have a nice nap?" the man crowed. He had a thick accent, one that she did not recognize. There was an air of power around him and Erza could sense the alien magic coming off him. It was the sort of magic that reminded her of Edolas—from a completely different world ( _dimension?_ ) yet somehow related to theirs. Magic that was...not from Earth Land.

"Who are you?" she growled.

The dragon behind her hissed while the man only chuckled. He kneeled in front of her, as if to study her features as much as she tried to study his. His armor was archaic in design—a sturdy breastplate with a strange dragon relief rising from the center in a manner similar to the Heart Kreuz on her cuirass—but it appeared as though the jagged edges jutting out of his joints were _teeth and bone? Is his armor made of bones?_

"You don't remember, don't you," he began.

"Remember what?"

"Hm. You really don't." He sighed and shrugged towards the tree line off in the distance. "You gave me some good solid hits, you know. I was very impressed," he said, unclasping his helmet to reveal a chiseled face sporting a thick beard and marred by a long scar reaching up from his lip to his right eye. A small red bulge edged out of the side of his chin. "Being thrown around by a smaller woman. Hah. I haven't had a fight like that in years."

"What are you blabbering about? Are you responsible for this?" Erza snapped.

"I was just flexing my muscle, dear Erza."

She felt her heart skip a beat. "How do you who I am!?"

The man stood. "Your reputation precedes you, Miss Scarlet. 'Titania', 'Queen of the Fairies'... My, my, you and your guild of fairies or tales or some other. Everyone seems to know who you are."

Erza leaned up against the fountain's blocks until she found proper footing to at least meet him eye to eye. If he was responsible for all this carnage, then perhaps he was also the reason for her injuries. "What did you do to me?"

"A special concoction I've been working on. It's quite potent; it denies magic-users their most valuable asset."

"A nullifying poison. You sly bastard." Whatever venom he jabbed into her somehow prevented her from tapping into her reserves, let alone raise her fists against chains that she should have very easily overcome. "Who are you and what is it that you want?"

"So now you're willing to negotiate. Should have asked nicely first. You can call me Ysmir. And that is Odahviing." In response to his gesture, the dragon exhaled against her back, blowing warm air through her hair to remind her of its might. "Yes, it's an interesting partnership. We've been traipsing around your lands for about, say, a few months or so. Enough time to adjust to your technologies, your culture, blending in, watching your world burn and heal."

"You...you're a dragon slayer?"

The man cupped her chin. He could see that she wanted to swing the chains up to smash them into his face but frustratingly was too weak to do so. He continued to angle her face sideways until he saw enough of her face. "Technically, I am. The degree of my capabilities, however, are distinctly...unique from those of _your_ dragon slayers."

"Your dragon...O-dah-viing..." Erza gawked at the beast behind her—it was unlike any other dragon she had laid her eyes on.

"I know what you're thinking. It's the other way around." He released his grip. "Odahviing may predate me by millennia but he has submitted to me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"For this world, yes. But from where I come from..." He smiled as he stood up to revel in the ash raining from the smoke-choked sky. "Dragons bend when you humble them."

"You..." Erza seethed, finally remembering Kagura and Simon, hiding the former from the cult that burned down the village she was raised in. "You...you did all this?"

"This was a town of criminals, harboring fugitives, members of your so-called 'dark guilds'."

"Not even sparing the innocent—"

"Odahviing was hungry. And I needed to practice. You should understand that extermination is key to keeping a plague from spreading. The members of these dark guilds are like a plague. So how do you stop a plague? You root out the source, burn the infected, and scatter the ashes to the wind."

"You...murderer... You're...you're mad."

Ysmir shrugged. "Perhaps. Sanity is subjective. Results are what matter."

Erza felt ash and dirt fly against her back and she turned to see the dragon launch into the sky, letting loose a mighty roar as it soared through the smoke. The beast continued to circle above them, its silhouette sticking through the bright fiery sky. "You and your dragon...you both are unlike anything..."

He raised his hand. "Do you know why I'm here, Miss Scarlet?"

She did not respond.

"Very well. I am searching for a certain black dragon. Large, powerful, and capable of devouring worlds."

Erza studied him. He could not be possibly referring to what she had in mind.

Ysmir read her, somehow, and continued, "Of course. You don't know. Or you're not going to tell me. I can understand that. You can't be too careful now with too many enemies and too few friends." Again, he was met with silence. "This dragon has an insatiable hunger and he will not stop until he devours the world. He needs power to survive and this power he gets by feeding on all that exists. I don't just erase plagues, I also destroy his food source."

Erza hastened towards him, dragging her boots against the ground and raising up clouds of ash and dust. "Such a strategy is no justification for this senseless slaughter. You are no worse than the dark guilds!"

He sighed as he wiped a stray strand of hair from her face. "Ah, noble, noble Erza. I have met so many of you in my lifetime. Alas, the end result of putting down the black dragon far outweighs the cost. I have hunted him before. And I thought I killed him. But you cannot kill those whose fates have been sealed by the gods, no?"

Erza furrowed her brow. "So you're hunting him again?"

"To be honest, it was not my intention to come here looking for him. As long as he busies himself with this world and its peculiarities, my world is free from his hunger."

She yanked herself away. "World? What world?"

At this point, the scarred bearded face morphed into one of thinly-veiled frustration. "Why don't you ask your celestial friends or your scribes? They could explain it all to you better than I can."

"You did all this just to interrogate me?" Erza hollered when he began walking down the road to the highway.

Ysmir stooped to pick up something. Then he tossed it towards her: a dirty, handmade doll with a single button for its eye. "Not really. I came here to erase the plague in this place. You just happened to be here at the right time. You and your...friends."

* * *

 _Natsu? Lucy? They were here?_

Erza scrambled to her feet, even as the chains weighed her down and the poison continued to wreak havoc in her system. Weakened as she was, she was not going to be left hanging. She needed to know.

"Where is Natsu!? Where is Lucy!?" she screamed.

"The fire dragon and his lady friend?" Ysmir turned towards her, his helmet now completing his insidious shape. "Oh, they're fine. They won't remember a thing. Unless you tell them, of course."

"Where are they!?"

Erza caught something metallic fly towards her. He tossed her the keys to her cuffs. Then he said, "The poison should wear off in a few hours. You could wait until then or you could start picking the lock. Either way, you would have nothing to worry about. Nothing life-threatening. I made sure to stab you where it would not outright kill you. Your friends are asleep in the woods west of here, where we first met. Completely unharmed."

"What is it that you want?" Erza demanded amid the roar of Odahviing soaring towards the dipping sun.

Ysmir glanced at her for the last time. Erza could have sworn his eyes flashed a bright blue fire. "To see what this world has to offer."

* * *

By the time Erza had freed herself of her bonds, she was completely alone amid the rubble. That did not stop her from calling out for her subordinates. Over and over again, she yelled their names until she reached the edge of the surrounding forest. Just passed the first few trees and over a mound, she found them.

 _All asleep, as he said._ And not a single scratch on them.

Erza slumped against a tree, sliding down to the grass, finally relieved. Whatever magic he used to put them to a deep sleep while he did what he did to the town, she would never know. She heard yawning. Natsu started to stretch his arms and sat up.

"Hey...what's...wha..."

"Have a nice nap?" Erza greeted with a weak smile.

"Erza?" The fire that flashed in his eyes was enough to startle everyone else out of their waking stupor. "Erza!"

* * *

"The realm of that Daedric Prince holds more knowledge than all of Nirn," Odahviing remarked.

Ysmir rose his head from the creek and wiped his face with a towel he had hung on a low branch. "Impress Hermaeous Mora enough times and he will grant you access to wondrous bits of information. Even the useless ones."

"Not every detail is useless."

"Aye. That is true. A flick of the page and the language and customs of this place is made known." He tossed the towel over his shoulder and stood to survey the landscape peeking beyond the edge of the near cliff. "Every strength and weakness of each member of almost every guild in this nice little world. I doubt I could remember it all."

The dragon eased its head over fallen timbre to better see the view down the valley. It was another city, much bigger than the last. "Even knowledge of who is innocent and who is guilty."

"Now there is no need to bother with such statistics. Why worry about the collateral when we could trim down the population. Lesser mouths to feed, lesser people to worry about," he remarked, resting his leg atop a large log. Erza's blows had served to crack even tempered dragon ivory. His body still ached from the pounding she had given him, the deep cuts and stabs still healing despite his best efforts. She was indeed a fine opponent.

"Lesser threats and more to sate my hunger."

Ysmir crossed the creek, reaching the vantage point marked on his map of Fiore. From this jagged rock formation, he could see the whole city and the surrounding countryside all the way to the distant mountains. Such were the envy of the Tamrielic capitals. Only the Imperial City could outmatch the vastness of these metropoles. "You will feed again, don't worry. Sit back on Mount Hakobe and await my call."

"Yes, _dovah,_ " Odahviing amusedly replied before edging to a glen and flying off to the highest peak in Fiore.

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: October 8, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: November 21, 2017**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: December 29, 2017**

 **NOTE: So there you have it: a sinister Dragonborn. It's a persona I'm experimenting with and one that I'm sure others have read about. Anyway, leave a review. Let me know if it works because I have another different persona that I've drafted this time with Gildarts.**

 **Have a good rest, folks.**


	2. Zeref

**NOTE: I will be twisting the lore of both series. Many thanks to _zack32_ for corresponding with me about potential connections between TES and FT.**

 **This one is my cross-over version of how the Books of Zeref came to be.**

* * *

Zeref Dragneel took a long deep breath. He could feel the visible shadowy energies radiating off the leaves of the Black Book he held in his hands. The dark magics were numbingly cold, robbing the nerves off the tips of his fingers.

"For Natsu," the young wizard said. Then he opened the hardcover.

Zeref barely turned to the next page when midnight tendrils constricted his whole body and dragged him into the abyss while he screamed and thrashed against its holds. When he came to, he could feel the humidity of the livid chambers of Apocrypha. He scrambled to his feet, unnerved by the countless macabre structures that surrounded him.

The chilling green skies, the murky waters, and the many forgotten records of knowledge that towered over him like bricks seemed to stretch endlessly. Ugly blotches in the sky spewed giant living tentacles while whirlwinds of ripped pages blew against his trembling body.

Slowly but surely, the young wizard ascended up the steps to the cryptic gate that swung open for him.

"At last, a new soul enters my realm," greeted the living abyss that was Hermaeous Mora.

Zeref gulped and hardened his knuckles.

* * *

The Nord found Zeref in his little alcove staring at the blank pieces of paper in front of him. The quill in his hand was already dripping with ink. The countless references for his unwritten opus arced around him, stacked like discarded clay blocks.

The young wizard twisted his body to face him upon hearing his boots echo off the cobbled floor. "I want to do this."

"Listen to me, Zeref," the ancient began. "You are young, intelligent, and very talented. You have so much ahead of you. I advise you to consider other alternatives."

"I know what you mean."

"Zeref!" the Nord boomed. "This is a warning. You do not know what you are dealing with. This knowledge is forbidden for a reason!"

"It doesn't matter. I have to!" he yelled back, tears welling in his eyes.

"I understand your grief. And I know how hard it is for you. But necromancy—no, the dark arts. This is not the solution. You still have a chance to walk away. Put down that quill and return home."

"I have no home!" Zeref glared at him with damp raging eyes then grabbed the quill which he furiously dipped into the ink jar. His hand trembled over the page, droplets of blank ink spreading over the empty page.

"Zeref!" the Nord growled. "Hermaeous Mora is an entity you do not want to make a deal with."

"I already have."

"No, you have not. You put a single word on that page, you seal your fate. Understand that whether or not you fail or succeed, you _will_ be returned to this realm to serve as his lackey for all of eternity."

Zeref looked back up at his mentor. The Nord, the legendary Ysmir Dovahkiin, history's Last Dragonborn, the greatest champion of the ancient world, the grand magister of archaic magic, this man met his gaze with tired, pleading eyes. His lips were curled into a frown, his face wrinkled, scarred, and unshaven. His normally brown pupils were now flashing a fiery green.

"I'm sorry, Master Ysmir."

"Zeref."

The young wizard began to sob. His tears stained the still empty page as his hand shook with the quill. "Thank you. For teaching me. For helping me learn all these things. But please...let me put them to use!"

"Go home. Live a long, good life. Rise from the ashes and build your own legacy."

"But the dragons..."

"The dragons will fade away in time."

"There is no Dragonborn to put them down for good. You were the last. Who else can have the power to slay a dragon permanently?" Zeref wailed.

Ysmir sighed. "Zeref. In time. Events will come to pass. Changes will take place. It is beyond me or my knowledge."

"I won't wait. I've done enough waiting. Everything I've done up to this point..." Zeref shook. Then, after a while, he wiped his face. With a determined breath, he dipped the quill once more into the jar and began writing.

"Zeref! No..."

It was too late. The Nord withheld his strength as a massive warding shield encapsulated his pupil who was consumed in a trance as he feverishly wrote down word after word after word. No matter what he did, he was powerless to stop the young wizard from writing his opus, his Book of Zeref—the first of many—modeled after the Black Books. The Last Dragonborn hissed and growled, sneering at the green sky upon hearing Hermaeous Mora's laughter echo from above.

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: December 4, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: January 10, 2017**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: January 10, 2017**

 **NOTE: I know, it may not make sense to some but it was worth writing about. :D**

 **I have another outlined scenario between Zeref and the Last Dragonborn but it takes place during the planning phase of the Alvarez Empire's invasion of Fiore. It may or may not be related to this one-shot.**


	3. Gildarts

The easternmost mountain ranges of the Kingdom of Pergrande were touted as among the highest with the fiercest blizzards raging all year round. Mount Hakobe, Fiore's best, could compete with a few other peaks in Ishgar but these monstrous creations of nature had proven to be Gildarts' greatest opponent yet.

That was not to say that it was his first time here. The Fairy Tail mage, covered from head to toe in thick bear and wolf hides, trudged and clawed through the piling snow. Despite the near endless expanse of white, he knew this path out of memory. This was the only traversable route in this hellish part of the continent known to man and he was sure that the dark wizards he was hunting would no doubt have relied on this lifeline to funnel themselves to their hideout somewhere in these vast mountains.

As Gildarts ascended to the flag that served as a landmark for all those who were brave enough (or crazy enough) to come here, he caught the form of a man in the distance. Up ahead. Animal skins rippled against the gales but he seemed to be heading his way.

That was weird. Who else was up here? He doubted it was some poor hiker who got lost. It was probably...

Gildarts picked up on the magical aura he gave off.

Definitely a wizard. A powerful one. His arcane blueprint was unlike anything he had sensed. Gildarts' way of saying hi to strangers that looked like a hazy dancing smudge in his peripheral vision was a quick display of his Crush Magic. A part of the mountain crumbled underneath them both and the stranger up ahead didn't like it.

The next thing Gildarts heard was deafening clap of thunder and he was suddenly blown away. Literally. He crashed against the rock face but regained his footing, digging his fingers into the earth to stop from sliding off into a deep crevasse. For all he knew, this bastard released some kind of shockwave strong enough to not only get him off his feet but also take a chunk of the mountain with it.

"This is going to be good," he spat against the weakening blizzard.

Gildarts clamoured over to a precipice as the whiteout lessened to give him a clearer view of his opponent.

" _Fus-ro-dah_!"

Once again, he was nearly thrown off the mountain by a magic force so great it cleaned up all the snow in its wake.

"Is that all you got!?" taunted the Fairy Tail mage, wiping the blood from his busted lip, an animalistic smile stretching from ear to ear. The snowstorm had cleared completely now—amazing how a raging snowstorm suddenly dissipated to reveal clear blue skies when only moments ago the weather was a rampaging natural force.

Despite the distance, the stranger could be seen smiling back at him.

* * *

It was an intense battle. One that literally destroyed the entire mountain. It was only when the dust had settled and both combatants realized that they had unwittingly caved in on top of the lair of the most powerful dark guild in whole of Pergrande. The surviving warlocks were not pleased and had already begun unleashing a torrent of magical energy.

Gildarts backed himself against his former opponent. "Looks like we crashed the party."

"Should we send them off? They seem eager," the stranger replied in that strange northern accent of his.

"Let's do the honors."

And so the famous Gildarts Clive of Fairy Tail and the mysterious Ysmir of the Far North fought side by side, using both Crush Magic and the Power of the Voice to completely annihilate the coven of dark wizards, leaving none alive.

* * *

Gildarts smashed his fist against the wall of rock and debris, instantly grinding them into fine gravel. The aftershock cleared all the dust out of the way, opening up the tunnel vein that led outside to the freezing wilderness.

"That was fun," the grizzled Fairy Tail mage hollered over the highland gales.

"Yes, yes. It was a good fight," the thickly bearded Nord replied, hefting his own pack—laden with loot—over his shoulders.

Gildarts pressed his hand over his shoulder. "Where are you off to?"

"The nearest village."

"Do you even know where it is?" he teased.

Ysmir grinned underneath his hood. "Do you have a better map?"

"I know better merchants who'd definitely buy off all your crap," Gildarts replied, pointing at his bulging field pack. "You mercenaries are a rare breed, you know that?"

The Nord shrugged. "A man has to earn a living."

* * *

It was later down the road, in calmer airs and greener pastures, when Gildarts asked, "What kind of magic was that?"

"Come again?"

"I know you like to use that mace of yours but you say some words and things happen. I haven't seen those tricks in a long while so indulge me when I have the chance. What kind of magic is that?"

Ysmir laughed. "It is...an old magic that my people used to practice."

"Used to practice, huh."

"Not many of my contemporaries even acknowledge it. Then again, I have not seen any of them in a long time," the Nord replied.

Gildarts nodded in understanding. He suspected as much; the excuse came off as more of a lie anyway. Then, it seemed less of a lie and more of an interesting cover. There weren't that many credible records of the peoples in the distant east of Ishgar. And if they could move the elements with just a few words, then it would make some sense to leave them alone.

With regards to Ysmir…

Well, he was alright. Packed one hell of a punch with his unique brand of 'Tongue' magic but he was amicable. Crossing the countryside was largely uneventful until they reached the village and eventually came to the commercial square which was, obviously, lit up and brimming with energy. Gildarts noted how Ysmir behaved awkwardly around electric lights, steam engines, and…pretty much any technological device manufactured after the advent of lachryma.

But that was not his business to pry. Or embarrass a rather powerful wizard by revealing his ineptitude with modern technology in front of hundreds of people.

Ysmir seemed not to care though and played along with his backwardness. The Nord laughed with the merchants as he bartered away his share of their loot. Gildarts had already sold off what he didn't need and was hanging under the shade of an extended awning until his…associate (yes, _associate_ ) concluded his business.

"I thought you would have already left," Ysmir remarked.

Gildarts unfolded his arms and gestured to the tavern behind him. "I needed a drink. Though I'd have a drinking buddy for once."

"Ah, very well."

* * *

Looking back, Gildarts realized he learned less than he thought he did about Ysmir. The man was a Nord (whoever those people were) who practiced the Tongues (whatever that magic was) and used a mace made from some tough metal infused with bone (whatever beast it belonged to).

When he waved goodbye to him at the end of the night, the Fairy Tail mage was waving to a stranger. He still knew he would be seeing him again. He made a mental note to look into Nords and their Tongue magic. Or get the younger nerds like Levy to look into that.

After all, Gildarts believed in 'knowing thyne enemy.'

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: October 30, 2017**

 **LAST EDITED: July 2, 2019**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: July 2, 2019**


End file.
